


A Bout of Insanity

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Avon Whump, F/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-25
Updated: 2008-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Marian de Haan</p>
<p>Avon has to break into a computer while Liberator is away with Blake on a crucial mission.  Vila loses his teleport bracelet and Avon is captured.  Can Avon hold out against the interrogators?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bout of Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

"This is insane!" Avon folded his arms and leant back at his position on Liberator's flight deck.

Cally, standing at his side, felt the mental force of his independence fiercely whirl round him.

"Avon's right, Blake," Jenna said from the pilot's console. "Without Liberator to pick you up in an emergency you won't have a prayer when something goes wrong."

On the forward couch, Gan stretched his long legs. "Why not wait with the operation on Terril until you've finished on Aubrius?"

Blake stopped his pacing of the flight deck. "Because of the timing. The work on that computer needs to be done at night, when the place is empty. The way I've planned it, Liberator will come in teleport range of Terril just after midnight local time."

"Then wait with going down to Aubrius," Jenna said.

"Why go down there at all?" Vila asked. "Just tell Zen to aim the laser blasters at that lab." He pointed at the trigger button on his console. "One push and WHOOSH..."

Blake shook his head. "We can't risk the pathogens escaping. Those bombs have to be placed very accurately, to ensure the explosions will be contained inside the laboratory complex."

Cally nodded. Blake had discussed his plan with her before informing the others. "Our only option is to go there and plant the bombs by hand."

"And get out before they go off," Avon added. "Something you failed to do last time."

//Don't treat me as a fool!// she telepathed to him.

"We'll use a remote control to set off the bombs," Blake said.

"But surely it can wait," Gan argued.

"No!" Blake was adamant. "You saw that secret file from the Aubrius research laboratory. They're working on viruses more lethal than anything ever developed before. The only way to ensure their research results don't get out is to destroy the laboratory *now*."

"Before they finish the project and hand over the data to Space Command," Cally added.

"The Federation know we took that cipher machine," Avon said. "Which means they can deduce exactly what information we have gathered. They will anticipate your actions and lay a trap for you."

Blake nodded. "That's why we can't afford to wait. We have to strike now, while they're still assessing the facts."

"Then postpone the trip to Terril," Gan said.

"Yeah," Vila commented lazily. "Avon can reprogram that computer any time, there's no hurry."

"There *is* Blake said. "That computer is responsible for the civil administration of this entire sector. The Federation's campaign to clamp down on the rebel activity here has left a large number of dissidents on the run. If Avon can reprogram that computer to give the Terril Resistance access, they'll be able to provide the refugees with new identities and backgrounds."

"A day won't make any difference," Vila said.

"I want to be out of this sector quickly," Blake told him. "That's why I want to combine the missions. We're on our way to Aubrius..."

"A course change you didn't feel in need of informing us about," Avon remarked caustically.

"I'm telling you now," Blake said. "As soon as we're in teleport range, Cally and I will go down. Since all security is concentrated on the fence and gates, we can teleport straight inside the laboratory. We'll have the place to ourselves until morning, all the time we need to plant our bombs."

"And how do you plan to get out before the place opens?" Jenna asked.

"We don't." Cally touched the facemask and goggles hanging round her neck. "With these and our white suits, we'll be indistinguishable from the regular lab personnel."

"As long as we don't trot on anyone's toes," Blake said, "no one will give us a second glance."

Avon snorted. "I admire your optimism."

"Liberator will go on to Terril," Blake continued, "where you and Vila will be teleported outside the administration building."

Vila jumped from his position. "Now wait a minute - Avon doesn't need me."

"We may expect the job to include some breaking and entering." Avon gave him a withering stare. "Your speciality - or so I've heard you claim."

"You can teleport straight into the computer room," Vila said. "Those Federation buildings are all the same in layout. Easy enough to compute the co-ordinates."

Avon shook his head. "That could set off all kinds of alarms before we've got the time to disable them."

"But you know me," Vila persisted. "I'll get in your way. You'll be better off without me."

Blake laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're being too modest, Vila."

"I could teach Avon how to pick the locks," Vila suggested eagerly. "They'll be the standard Federation brand, nothing complicated."

"I'm sure Avon will want to leave an expert job to the expert." His hand still on Vila's shoulder, Blake asked Avon: "How long will you need?"

Avon's gaze turned inward as he contemplated the problem. "I can write the program here and save time. Of course, I still need to bypass the securities..."

Cally smiled to herself , admiring Blake's skill in handling Avon. He now seemed to have succeeded in securing his co-operation seemingly without Avon realising it.

"...but a civil administration computer will have less safeguards than a military one. An hour should do it, probably less."

Yes, Cally thought. Once Avon had committed himself to a task, you could rely on him to put his best efforts to the job.

"Good," Blake said, showing no triumph. "Jenna will keep Liberator in orbit and Gan will stay by the teleport. When you're back on board she'll return to Aubrius to pick us up."

"Blake!" Avon's voice was cutting. Flight time between Aubrius and Terril is seven hours. With the time needed for the Terril job that means the round trip will take at least fifteen hours. Too long for you to roam undetected through a top secret Federation laboratory."

Blake shook his head. "The fact that the place is top secret will work to our advantage - once we're inside no one will think twice about our right to be there. All we need to do is stride through the place as if we belong. Scientists are usually far too occupied with their own research to give much attention to anyone else."

"We're taking our guns with us, just in case," Cally said, tapping the side of her baggy white coverall. "Our pockets are large enough to hide them."

Avon stepped from his position. "If something does go wrong you have no way out. Think of what they'll do to you if they catch you, Blake! Do you want to have your memory wiped again? It is a stupid risk!"

Blake raised his chin, eyes blazing. "I'm the one who's taking it!"

With an air of disgust Avon turned his back on him, his gaze boring into Cally. "And you - weren't Travis's administrations enough? You want to go back for more?"

His words hit her like whiplashes. //Avon, don't!//

For a moment she saw compassion in his eyes.

"It has to be done," she said calmly.

"Then don't do it in this stupid manner! Marooning yourselves in a Federation research centre without means of escape for fifteen hours is sheer lunacy."

"Blake has a point, Avon," Jenna said. "It will take time to plant those bombs. Too long for Liberator to remain in stationary orbit without being detected."

"Better to keep on the move," Gan concurred.

Avon gave them a nasty smile. "So, once more Blake has got you where he wants!" He shrugged. "All right, Blake, if you're set on this insanity, go ahead! Just don't rely on me to get you out of the mess!"

Cally gave him a challenging look. //I know you better than that, Avon.//

His eyes held a mixture of frustration and concern, belying the coldness of his voice: "You don't know me at all!"

* * * * * * *

On materialising on Terril's soil Avon heard Vila scream. Raising his gun, he smiled grimly on seeing Vila tumble down the slope amidst a shower of shingle and sand. Trust Vila to land on loose ground! But he was in no danger as the slope was not steep and ended in grassy soil. Of course that didn't stop him moaning. Avon sighed; Vila never took his misfortunes philosophically.

Idly watching Vila get up, Avon frowned, subconsciously sensing something to be amiss. Irritated he shrugged off the feeling, concentrating on his surroundings. They'd landed on a piece of wasteland just outside the government quarter of Terril's main city. In the light of two huge moons the world had taken on various shades of grey. Avon led the way towards the high, square, uninspiring buildings.

"Shut up!" he told Vila a few minutes later when they were nearing the first buildings.

"But it hurts!" Vila rubbed his elbow.

"Then suffer in silence! Or do you want to draw attention?"

"There's no one here."

"They're bound to have some kind of night watch patrolling. It's standard procedure. So be quiet!" Avon stopped in front of a tall building. "This is it."

"How do you know?"

Avon pointed at the plaque next to the main entrance. Black letters on the illuminated yellow board announced it to be the Sector's Administration building. "They're not exactly keeping it secret, are they?"

"They're closed," Vila said with a vague gesture at the list of opening times. "Maybe we should come back another time."

Avon gave him a cold smile. "We'd better find a back entrance. Come on."

Two minutes later he looked on while Vila set to work on the lock of a door in a small alley at the side of the building.

"Suppose someone's inside?" Vila whispered.

"There won't be. All security is automated. So make sure you don't trigger anything off while you open that door."

"I won't." Vila seemed to gain confidence now his professional skill was challenged. He got the lock open in less than three minutes. Overriding the security system took only slightly longer. Avon let out a silent sigh of relief. Apparently Vila was as good as he claimed.

Inside it was pitch dark. They sought their way with the help of the torches they'd brought with them, Vila disabling security devices as they went. At last they entered the basement room that held the master computer.

The room having no windows, Avon thought it safe to switch on the lights. The sight of a metal door in the side wall made him smile in satisfaction.

"In this part of the galaxy lots of payments are still done in cash," he told Vila. "That looks like the door of a safe. Why don't you tackle it while I work on the computer?"

Vila gave him a look of dawning admiration. "That's why you told me to choose a tunic with large pockets."

Avon activated the computer. "And why I wanted you with me."

Vila gave the lock a critical perusal. "A tough one."

"You mean you can't open it?" Avon challenged him.

"Of course I can. It just needs time."

"You'd better not waste any more on talking, then."

They set to work.

Half an hour later Avon was making the last adjustments to the reprogramming, well ahead of schedule, when he was brought out of his concentration by the chiming of his teleport bracelet. He pressed his communicator button. "Avon."

"Jenna here. The detectors are registering three pursuit ships coming this way. Zen says we'll be in their detector range within six minutes."

Just enough time to complete the task. "Right. I'm nearly finished. Stand by to bring us up." Switching off the communicator, Avon turned to Vila, who was prodding the lock with a small probe. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes." Vila retracted his probe and the lock sprang open. "There." Counting softly, he began to stuff wads of banknotes into his pockets.

Avon turned his attention back to his own task, impatiently waiting for the computer to finish the reprogramming run.

"Ready," Vila said, patting his bulging pockets. "Sixty thousand credits."

Thirty thousand each, not a bad haul, Avon thought. And Vila was now in his debt. Something to remind him of when Avon was in need of support against Blake.

"Ninety seconds, Avon," came Jenna's voice over the communicator. "I can't risk the ship!"

"We'll be ready in a minute." With relief Avon saw the computer announce the completion of the instructions. Taking out the reprogramming disk, he told Vila: "Shut that safe door."

Vila grinned. "You like to leave things tidy, hey?"

Hiding his satisfaction, Avon treated him to a supercilious smile. "Mind you don't set off any alarms."

"Of course not! I know my job." Vila gave the safe door a vigorous push. The lock clicked and sirens started wailing through the building.

* * * * * * *

"What did I hear you say?"

"Wasn't my fault!" Vila tried not to wince under Avon's stare. "You must have triggered something in that computer."

"That seems unlikely."

"Avon," Jenna called. "You've got fifteen seconds!"

Vila felt panic rise. "Let's get out of here!"

Avon switched off the computer. "Right, tell Gan to bring us up."

Relieved, Vila raised his arm. Then his heart seemed to stop. Horror gripped him. "Avon! I've lost my bracelet."

"Idiot! Find it!"

With sickening certainty Vila knew that was useless. "It must have happened outside, when I fell."

"Time's up, Avon," Jenna said.

Vila grabbed Avon's arm. "Don't leave me!"

"Bringing you up in three seconds," Gan announced.

In a daze Vila saw Avon rip off his bracelet.

"Teleporting now."

Vila felt the bracelet being clamped violently round his arm. While the dematerialization gripped him, he heard Avon's harsh voice: "Tell them to get Blake out first..."

The next moment Vila found himself in Liberator's teleport bay. He fell hard against the wall as Liberator shot out of orbit.

"Where's Avon?" Gan asked.

Thoughts raced through Vila's head: the need to find a hiding place for the money, the pursuit ships on their tail, Avon's baffling deed... "He lost his bracelet."

* * * * * * *

Still reeling from the sheer insanity of giving Vila his bracelet, Avon considered his options. Footsteps pounding in the corridor decided him against a dash for freedom. Quickly, he sought cover behind the computer console while the door was kicked in. If they were stupid enough to run straight for the safe he might have a chance to escape behind their backs...

No such luck. Only two of the half dozen guards went on to check the safe door. Two others began to search the computer room while the last two stayed at the door.

"Raise your hands and come forward!" a sharp voice barked.

Obeying resignedly, Avon found four guns aimed at him. One of the guards, taller than the others although equally anonymous in his black helmet, removed Avon's weapon. Holding it out to a man with the insignia of a Section Leader - the only one with his visor up - he said: "Look at this, Sir."

The Section Leader eyed the weapon with interest. "Well, well, well...," he drawled in a voice thick with triumph. "This meets the description of the weapons of those escaped criminals who've got hold of a space ship."

"Didn't they also have some kind of teleport system?" the tall guard asked.

"Indeed - enables them to drop in and out in a flash." The Section Leader's smug gaze came to rest on Avon. "I think we can congratulate ourselves with the capture of a dangerous terrorist."

"You mean that Blake fellow, Sir?" another guard asked.

"This isn't Blake." The Section Leader moved his gun a fraction until it pointed straight at Avon's heart. "Who are you?"

In a flash of inspiration, Avon laid as much fear in his voice as he could: "I'm not a terrorist! A thief, yes, but never a terrorist!"

"A thief? Ah..." The Section Leader's eyes lit up. "There was mention of a thief - a Delta grade recidivist. Now what was his name...?"

"Vila," Avon volunteered. "Vila Restal. And I'm not against the Federation. I never wanted to fight! Blake forced me..."

The Section Leader gave him a disdaining stare. "Yes, Vila Restal. You're a miserable coward, aren't you?" His hand came up for a blow.

Avon flinched away. "Don't hit me!"

The Section Leader's smile was vicious. "Where's Blake?"

Avon shook his head, pretending to be thoroughly frightened. "He'll kill me if I tell you."

"I'll kill you if you don't!" The Section Leader raised his gun to emphasise his words.

"No, please!" Feeling the muzzle against his cheek, Avon added quickly: "He's on Bellasol."

That was a planet in a nearby system, housing a weapons development centre.

"Ah." The Section Leader lowered his gun. "Now that makes sense. He's going to attack the Centre."

Avon nodded, biting his lip. That centre was so obvious a target, even Blake had seen the sense of avoiding it.

"Good." The Section Leader beamed at him. "I'll send them a message at once. Now, what were you doing here?"

Trying to sound resentful, Avon whined: "It's all Avon's fault..."

"Avon? Ah yes, the embezzler. First grade Alpha - you don't see many of them turn to crime."

"Well, they don't have to, do they?" Avon managed the right amount of scorn. "Being the privileged class!"

"Go on," the Section Leader said.

Avon clenched his teeth, pretending to be too frightened to answer. When the other aimed his gun again he blurted out: "Avon was supposed to sabotage the computer. But once we were here, he said: forget about the computer, we're going to empty the safe. He wants to leave Blake, you see, and for that he needs money. So he made me open that door for him. He took out all the money. Then he teleported out when the alarm went off."

The Section Leader smirked. "Not your lucky day, is it? How come he left you behind?"

"I lost my teleport device."

"Definitely not your lucky day! Bring him to a cell," the Section Leader instructed the guards. "I haven't finished with him yet."

Two guards took Avon between them. Two others positioned themselves behind him, guns aimed at his back. The tall guard took the lead.

Halting to let his superior through the doorway first, the guard asked: "Aren't you going to warn the Intelligence Officer, Sir?"

A slight smile did nothing to warm the Section Leader's features. "Not before morning. We don't want to deprive our esteemed Captain Karpal of his beauty sleep, now do we?"

So, Avon thought while they marched him out, the Section Leader was planning to claim the honour of his catch for himself. Not surprising: rivalry was fierce between the Military and the Intelligence Division, better known as the notorious Central Security.

* * * * * * *

"Information," Zen announced. "Pursuit ships are now out of Liberator's scanner range. No probe activity has been detected."

"Good," Jenna said. "Maintain course for Aubrius, Zen."

"Confirmed."

Gan left the weapon console he'd been manning. (Vila had run from the teleport room and not reacted to Jenna's call for him to come to the flight deck.) "Let's go back for Avon first. That doesn't have to take long. I can teleport down with a spare bracelet."

"No," Jenna said. "We'll keep to the schedule."

"Avon will have a hard time down there, keeping in hiding for fourteen hours," Gan protested.

"Too bad." Jenna felt a perverse satisfaction. Let Avon experience what it felt like to be left behind. His attempt to tempt her into abandoning Blake on Cygnus Alpha still rankled. Seeing Vila enter the flight deck, glass with green liquid in hand, she demanded: "And where have you been?"

Heading for the nearest couch, he held up his glass. "I needed to get something to steady my nerves."

"I still think we should go back for Avon," Gan said.

Vila sat down. "He said to get Blake out first."

"What?" Jenna asked.

"His very words," Vila said. "'Tell them to get Blake out first.'"

Jenna felt an ice-cold suspicion rise in her stomach. "It must be a trap. He's planning to sell us out."

"Hey?" Vila's head came up from his glass.

"Losing his bracelet isn't like Avon. It must be a ploy to give him the chance to stay behind. He's going to save his own skin by delivering us to the Federation." The more Jenna thought about it, the likelier it seemed. "They'll lay a trap for us at Aubrius, hoping to catch Liberator along with Blake."

"No," Vila exclaimed, suddenly looking very uneasy. "Avon really lost his bracelet."

Jenna gave him a disdaining stare. "Anyone can fool you!"

"It's true," Vila maintained. "He didn't see he'd lost it until the very last moment."

Jenna frowned. Something was wrong with that argument, something so obvious it was staring her in the face... "I was in contact with Avon right until the last moment - via his bracelet!" She left her console, advancing upon Vila with menacing steps. "You're lying! You're in league with him!"

Gan came from the other side. "The truth, Vila!"

"All right." The drink spilled over the glass in Vila's trembling hand. "It was me who lost the bracelet. Avon gave me his."

"What?" Gan said, halting.

"He wouldn't!" Jenna spat.

"Why didn't he call for us to bring another?" Gan asked.

Vila seemed to try to melt into the couch. "There wasn't time. I didn't notice until he told me to call you to bring us up. Honestly!"

"I don't believe it!" Jenna stared at the man cowering before her. "Avon wouldn't jeopardise his freedom for you!"

"He probably rates his own chances of staying out of the Federation hands higher than Vila's," Gan said pensively. "We all know Vila will spill the beans the moment he's caught. Avon must have reasoned that hiding out on Terril is less dangerous than being drafted into a mission to get Blake and Cally out of a Federation prison."

Jenna forced herself to consider that argument with an open mind.

"I suppose it's possible."

Gan asked Vila: "How is the situation down there? Will he be able to stay in hiding for that long?"

"Oh, sure." Vila gave them a nervous smile. "Avon has this sense for self-preservation, hasn't he?"

Jenna still didn't feel totally convinced. But she wasn't going to abandon Blake if she could help it. "We're going to stick to the plan. Avon will have to sweat it out until we've retrieved Blake and Cally. Zen, keep all scanners at full alert. Warn us of any approaching craft."

"Confirmed."

* * * * * * *

Avon's cell was of the standard Federation brand, containing nothing but a bunk, a tap for water and a hole in the floor for sanitation. They'd stripped him of all clothes and possessions and given him a faded green coverall that was two sizes too large. Reflecting that prison procedures were the same all over the Federated worlds, he lay down on his bunk, glad to remove his bare feet from the cold floor.

His anger about having been forced into this act of insanity quickly passed. He'd had no choice - there'd been no time to get the money off Vila. The fact that it would have taken the guards only minutes to get a full confession out of Vila, resulting in the capture of Blake and Cally, had nothing to do with it.

Things weren't as bad as they could have been. With a bit of luck all Federation spacecraft in the sector would be directed to Bellasol. That would give Liberator a clear path to Aubrius. The ship could well be back to pick him up before anyone became aware that Blake wasn't on Bellasol.

As long as he could pass for Vila, considered too cowardly to dare lying, Avon would be relatively safe - and able to feed his captors any amount of misinformation. The game would be over as soon as someone started to compare his palm and voiceprints, but it was just possible that no one would take that trouble.

A quick look at his watch before handing it over had given the time as twelve minutes past midnight, local time. It would take Liberator at least fourteen hours to go to Aubrius and back. Without his watch Avon would have to rely on the prison routine for gauging the time...

The sound of the door sliding back made him sit up. The Section Leader entered, leaving the tall guard at the door.

"I've warned Bellasol," he said. "The centre's gone into alert. They'll catch Blake."

Avon quickly slid back into his role: "Don't let him get near me!"

His interrogator smiled nastily. "He frightens you, doesn't he?"

"Blake's a monster!" Avon was perversely beginning to enjoy himself. "We're all afraid of him. Even Avon."

"I see." The Leader sat down beside him on the bunk, putting a small voice recorder between them. Activating it, he said: "Now you are going to tell me all about your companions and your ship and your plans. Every little detail."

Avon obliged, providing him with a heap of minutiae about life aboard Liberator. Knowing that a bit of honesty makes lies more convincing, he wove as much truth into his tales as he could. Improvising along, he presented a picture of a crew about to break under the strain, making it sound as if none of them could even remotely pose a threat to the Federation. It was a tiring job, for he could not afford to let his attention slip for a single moment.

When he began to repeat himself, the Section Leader switched off his recorder. While he picked it up, Avon managed to steal a glance at his watch. Nearly half past two. Liberator must have shaken off the pursuit ships and be well on her way to Aubrius by now.

When his interrogator had gone, Avon lay down on his bunk, turning onto his side to shield his eyes from the harsh light that would remain switched on during the night. His cell brought painful thoughts of Anna. Avon could almost visualise her: alone, hurt, yet defiant until the end...

Determined, he cast his thoughts away from her. But when he closed his eyes, another woman manifested herself before him: Cally.

He did not want to get involved with her. He'd accepted her death on Centero, putting away the pain as he'd done after Anna's demise. When it became clear that she had survived, and was in the hands of Federation torturers, he'd shut out all feeling. He didn't dare to hope that Blake would succeed in bringing her out and when he did, Avon had been too relieved to say a word.

Cally had taken her place amongst them as if nothing had happened. But that night Avon had been woken by her voice in his head: //Avon, I need you.//

He hadn't want to react. She should call Blake; it was his mission that got her captured. But while he was thinking that, his feet were already bringing him to her cabin.

Cally sat on her bed, eyes large and haunted. Feeling awkward and ill at ease, Avon had sat down beside her. She'd begun to talk, relating and reliving the torture her captors had subjected her to and fretting about what she might have revealed.

Avon had been brusquely reassuring. "Don't be an idiot! You know nothing about the workings of Liberator's systems. And do you really think you can have told them something new about any of us? We're all in their files, remember!"

Seeing his words hit home, he'd stood, eager to leave. She had grabbed his arm. "Stay, Avon."

Taken aback by the urgency in her voice, he had obliged, listening while Cally told him about the loneliness being cut off from her mind-sharing people brought her and how the force of his mental independence was giving her the strength to bear her isolation.

Avon had no time for mystics but Cally's alien talents fascinated him. Her telepathy was real - he DID receive her thoughts. Therefore there must be a scientific explanation for it. Taking the opportunity, he'd asked her about the experiments into the subject done on Auron. Cally had willingly told him all she knew . They'd sat talking companionably until she fell asleep.

That useful conversation had been the reason why he'd stayed with her that night, Avon reminded himself - not some sentimental urge to comfort a rebel who'd been stupid enough to let herself get caught.

Still, the fact that Cally seemed to prefer him to Blake did provide a certain satisfaction. He definitely did not want to get involved with her, but if he played her dependence on him right she could be another ally for when the time of confrontation came. With both her and Vila on his side, the odds were even. Gan was a lost cause, but Jenna seemed both sensible and practical. Once she got over her crush for her noble leader, she might well be prepared to take Avon's side. Then they could dump Blake and Gan on some suitable rebel base and embark on more profitable ventures.

Turning onto his other side, Avon tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard bunk. He needed sleep, to be ready for the next interrogation. Gloves were bound to come off once the Intelligence Officer took over. But investigators of his rank were only allowed a limited amount of violence. Avon knew the Interrogation Rules as well as any Security member. The more sophisticated treatment, the real, irreversible damage, had to be left to a professional torturer. Even the thugs from Central Security had to stick to the rules, which meant he would get out of this with a sore back at the most. Something he knew he could stand.

* * * * * * *

For the fifth time in half an hour Blake consulted his watch. "Twenty minutes."

Cally nodded. With her goggles and protective mask she was as anonymous as everyone else in the complex. "Liberator will come."

"Yes." Blake resumed his pacing. After planting the last bomb they'd settled into this small, unoccupied laboratory. Blake had no idea what kind of research was done with the instruments on the workbench but pretended to be studiously working on them the few times someone had entered the room.

Cally was idly playing with the computer that stood in a corner on a small desk. A password prevented access to the research data, but general information, newsreels and games were available.

Blake sighed; she seemed to be coping better with the waiting than he was. Hearing footsteps in the corridor, he hurried to the workbench. When the door was opened he was bending over the instruments.

"What are you doing in my office?"

Blake turned. A man dressed in the standard white stepped into the lab.

Behind him, Cally quietly closed the door.

"What are you doing here?" the man repeated. His features were hidden by his mask and glasses but he was short, portly and exuded an air of belligerence. Eyes roaming over the workbench, he exclaimed: "You're spying. Trying to steal my work. I'll-"

Cally's hand came down on his neck. Blake saw the man topple over almost in slow motion.

"That's all we need," he commented. "Where are we going to hide a corpse in here?"

//You'd rather I'd waited for him to raise the alarm?//

"No, Cally. I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

He was interrupted by the chiming of his bracelet.

"We'll be in teleport range in seven minutes," Jenna announced when he'd replied.

"And not too soon." Blake saw his own relief mirrored in Cally's eyes. "Bring us up the moment you can."

"Gan is standing by."

"Thank you, Jenna. Out."

"She's early," Cally said.

Blake nodded. "Avon must have needed less time than he'd-"

The door burst open. A young man strode in. "Professor Kayman." He halted at the sight of the corpse on the floor. "What...?"

"He's collapsed." Cally bent down and began to remove the corpse's mask. "Help me."

The man kneeled beside her. "I'll do that. You warn the medics."

Coming silently from behind, Blake grabbed him by the neck. Knowledge of forgotten fighting techniques flooded back into his memory. With cold precision he snapped the man's neck.

"What are you doing?" someone shouted from the corridor.

Blake saw more people approach.

Blasts from Cally's gun flashed past him. Two persons fell down. The others scattered.

An alarm started blaring.

Blake slammed the door shut. "Help me shove that desk against it."

"That won't hold them long!"

"It doesn't need to."

//Down!//

Blake flattened himself on the floor beside Cally while the door was blasted. Hot pieces of metal flew into the room, but the desk protected them.

"Come out with your hands up!" someone shouted.

"You come and get us!" Cally invited.

Blake looked at his watch. Surely the seven minutes must be up...

"All right, you asked for it. Heave, men!"

Blake saw the desk begin to topple towards them just when they were snatched away by the teleport effect.

"You're all right?" he asked Cally on materialising in Liberator's teleport bay. Seeing her nod, he ran to the flight deck, aware of Gan and Cally following him.

"Get her out of here fast, Jenna! Vila, activate the detonator control."

"Wait a minute, Blake," Gan said from the doorway. "It's afternoon down there. You'll kill everyone inside."

"I know," Blake snapped.

"It is necessary," Cally said, entering the flight deck. "Otherwise they will simply pick up their research again."

Blake glared at Gan. He didn't like this decision. But the alternative was worse. "Those scientists are developing pathogens able to wipe out entire populations. We have to destroy the brains with the files. Vila, detonate!"

Blake was relieved to see that Vila's squeamishness only applied to face-to-face killings; he pressed the button with relish.

"Right ho!" Vila said.

"Zen," Blake asked, "are we still within sensor range of the complex?"

"Affirmative. Sensors register tremors indicating a massive detonation of explosives inside the complex."

"Good." As relief took hold of Blake he realised how tired he was. "Set in a course out of this sector."

"No," Gan said. "We've got to go back for Avon first."

"What?" It now dawned on Blake that Avon's position was conspicuously empty. "You mean he's still on Terril?"

Vila made a vague gesture. "Lost a bracelet."

Blake thought of their confrontation, Avon's 'It is a stupid risk!' and his own 'I'm the one who's taking it.'

Now the risk had become Avon's. "We'll have to go back for him. Zen, set course for Terril."

"Confirmed."

Blake turned to Jenna. "Why didn't you send someone down with a spare bracelet?"

"There wasn't time," she said.

"We had pursuit ships coming our way," Gan explained.

"We only just managed to evade them," Jenna added.

Vila leaned back in his seat. "Avon will be all right."

"He'll have found a safe hideout," Gan said.

Yes, Blake thought. Avon would manage to keep himself out of danger. There was no need to worry.

* * * * * * *

Avon was woken by the sound of a panel sliding shut. A bit surprised about having slept so well, he stretched his stiff limbs. Falling automatically back into prison routine, he rose to collect the carton that had been shoved through the sliding panel in the door. It contained a kind of drinkable porridge with a balanced mixture of fibres, nutrients and vitamins - and a liberal dose of suppressants to keep the prisoners docile.

Better keep his wits about him! Avon emptied the carton in the hole. He wasn't particularly hungry anyway. Lying down on his bunk again, he closed his eyes, reflecting that Liberator must have reached Aubrius by now. Terril's day cycle was nearly three hours longer than Standard Earth Time. They kept to the twenty-four hour clock, making each hour last longer to conform to the planet's time. Prison governors didn't believe in making the inmates sleep late. It would be no later than seven o' clock local time. If Liberator had not run into trouble, she must be picking up Blake and Cally about now.

What if Blake decided not to come back for him? No, he was too useful. With Zen prone to shut down at times of crisis, Blake needed the services of a top-line computer technician. And he wouldn't be able to find anyone else of Avon's calibre willing to join him. Even Blake must be pragmatic enough to realise that.

Avon heard his cell door slide open. Opening his eyes, he saw the Section Leader enter, followed by a man with a hard face who, despite the lack of insignia, was immediately recognisable as a Federation Security Officer.

The newcomer strode to the bunk. Before Avon had time to sit up, he was kicked savagely in the ribs.

"I'm Captain Karpal. Stand when I'm talking to you!"

Avon obeyed, holding a hand to his side and groaning involuntarily at the pain the movement brought. At least one rib felt cracked.

Karpal turned to the cowed looking Section Leader. "Well, Tef?"

Tef's eyes went down to the dossier in his hand. "Brown eyes. Brown hair..."

Karpal pointed a finger at the dossier. "His hair is somewhat darker than that, wouldn't you say?"

"If you say so, sir."

From where he stood Avon was unable to see the front of the dossier. Must be the 'wanted' list, and with better quality photos than usual, by the sound of it, he thought with a sinking feeling.

"Look, man!" Karpal told the Section Leader. "Do you see ANY resemblance?"

Tef cast Avon a furious glance. "No, Sir."

"So," Karpal concluded, rubbing it in with glee. "This man is not Vila Restal."

"He is not Blake, Sir."

"Correct. Which gives you two other possibilities, unless you want to include the women."

Tef turned a page of his dossier. "He's not Olag Gan..."

"Which leaves?" Karpal asked in a tone as if addressing a backward child.

Tef turned another page. "Kerr Avon, the embezzler, Sir."

Karpal turned his attention to Avon. He was almost purring. "Kerr Avon, the frustration of the Fraud Squad. I recognised your voice at once." Frowning at his lack of reaction, he added: "You don't seem to remember me."

Avon reverted to his customary disdain: "Should I?"

"I was present at your arrest, that time when you were suspected in connection with that worm Keiller."

Just his luck! Avon produced a cold smile. "In that case, I can't say you've made a lasting impression."

Karpal glared at him before smiling icily back. "Your capture will bring me promotion. A position with Central Security on Earth."

"The right place for you..." Avon knew he should keep his mouth shut but some inner demon made him add: "...among the other bloodthirsty maniacs."

He managed to duck out of the way of Karpal's fist. But he was not fast enough to evade the simultaneous kick to his shin. Overwhelmed by pain he fell down.

With an evil smile Karpal brought his boot forcefully down on Avon's wrist.

Bones snapped. Avon screamed.

Karpal removed his foot. "Now we've established credentials, it's time to get down to business."

Heading for the door, he instructed Tef: "Get your men to bring him to the interrogation room. I'll have to try to limit the damage you've done by not informing me immediately of the capture of the galaxy's most wanted criminal."

Avon managed to raise an eyebrow. "Most wanted after Blake, surely?"

Karpal halted in the doorway. "Blake's a figurehead, feared by the politicians because of his propaganda value. We at Central Security know that your knowledge and intelligence makes you the greater threat."

Avon tried to smile; it turned into a grimace. "Now you've made my day."

"Enjoy it!" Karpal left the cell, adding over his shoulder: "While you can."

Tef barked an order that brought in the tall guard. Reeling from pain, Avon was pulled to his feet and frog-marched through a bleak corridor to the interrogation room. The chamber was instantly recognisable, being furnished exactly the same as the ones Avon had come to know on Earth. Uniformity was the hallmark of the Terran Federation.

His captors deposited him on the metal bench in the centre.

Dizzy from the pain, Avon closed his eyes, grateful to be lying down.

"No need to secure him," he heard Tef say.

"We can't have him walking away, Sir," the guard protested.

"He won't."

The hint of malicious anticipation made Avon open his eyes. He saw Tef rummaging in a cabinet in the corner.

"What are you looking for, Sir?" the guard asked.

"This," Tef said, closing the cabinet. "It's one of the toys of that para-investigator they brought over from Earth last year to deal with the uprising. Forgot to take it with him when he went home."

He held up a sleek metal rod. "This is a bone crusher." Tef walked back to Avon, continuing in a conspiring tone to the guard: "It can break a bone without damaging the skin. With his leg broken he won't be able to walk away, will he?"

The guard grinned. "No need for Karpal to get all the fun."

Avon's mouth went dry. "This will get you into trouble. You have no authorisation to use that crusher and neither has Karpal."

"So, it will get Karpal into trouble," Tef drawled. "He'll never be able to prove that it wasn't his kick that broke your leg."

"Serves the bastard right," the guard commented.

"Yes," Tef spat. "He'll be sorry for treating me like a half-wit. I'll have him by the balls."

"How, Sir?" the guard asked eagerly.

Tef gestured at Avon. "Karpal's planning to hand him over to his masters at Central Security."

"Someone should warn Space Command," the guard said.

Tef smiled smugly. "Someone already has." He pressed a button on the crusher. It started to buzz softly.

"Pull up his trouser leg," Tef ordered the guard.

Avon gritted his teeth. He felt the cold tip of the crusher against his bruised skin. Then a searing pain. Awareness blacked out.

* * * * * * *

"We'd better all take the chance to rest..." Blake's voice was blocked out by a bout of intense pain that made Cally nearly faint.

It was over in a second, disappearing as sudden as it had come.

She felt Gan's strong hands holding her, saw Blake bending over her, sensed Jenna's mixture of concern and distrust, heard Vila protesting against being woken...

"What's the matter, Cally?" Blake asked, his face full of worry.

"Nothing. I'm all right."

"You cried out as if you were in pain," Jenna said.

"I was - for a moment." Cally shrugged it off. "I'm fine now."

"It could be a reaction to the treatment on Centero," Gan said. "We'd better let the medical computer do another check on you."

"Do that," Blake said. "And then go and rest. Vila, you take the watch."

"Why me?" Vila rose from the couch. "I've been on duty as long as any of you."

"In deep slumber," Jenna said.

With reluctant steps Vila slouched to the pilot's position. "It's not fair."

"Zen, keep the scanners on full alert," Blake instructed. "Right, let's try to get some sleep."

"Wait," Cally said. "Something is not right."

Jenna looked at her with open suspicion. "What do you mean?"

Cally frowned, not certain of that herself. The only thing she knew was that she suddenly felt a great uneasiness about Avon. "We are missing something." She tried to collect her thoughts. "Avon is too cautious to lose his bracelet."

"He didn't," Jenna said. "Vila did."

"What?" Blake roared.

Cally turned to Vila. "And you stole his!"

"No," Vila cried. "He gave me his."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true, Cally! Honestly. Gan said he'd bring us up in three seconds and Avon took his bracelet off and put it on my arm and told me to get you out first."

"He wouldn't have done it, if the risk was too great," Jenna said.

Gan nodded. "He must have rated his own chances of staying out of the Federation's hands better than Vila's."

Cally's fury fought for supremacy with her contempt for Vila. "You idiot!"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Give it back?" Vila backed away from her. "There was no time, and with the alarm going off..." He fell silent, looking extremely uneasy.

"What alarm?" Jenna asked.

"In the office, just when we prepared to get out. Can't have been me. Avon must have triggered something in that computer."

"But the central computer is always situated in the basement of a Federation building," Cally exclaimed, now thoroughly dismayed. "If Avon was there when the alarm went off, he won't have had a chance to get out."

Gan leaned threateningly over to Vila. "You made us believe he was safe."

Vila backed further away. "Well, he probably is. I mean, with his tongue - those guards won't know how fast to get rid of him!"

Cally turned to Blake. "He must have been taken prisoner."

"Avon isn't that kind of fool," Jenna said. "I can believe in him giving Vila his bracelet if the result is nothing worse than a day in hiding. Especially if he reckons to be safer down there than in Liberator under attack. But he'd never give away his means of escape if it meant certain capture."

"He knows what we all know, that Vila is a coward." Cally felt suddenly certain of Avon's motivations. "If captured, Vila would have told them all about our mission even before they started threatening him. Then it would have needed only a message to Aubrius to get us arrested."

"You mean that Avon expected to be able to hold out under interrogation long enough for Liberator to get us out," Blake said pensively.

"Even under torture?" Gan asked.

"Yes," Cally said. "He's done it before."

Jenna jumped on her almost physically: "Did he tell you that?"

"No." Cally mentally shielded herself from the onslaught. "But it was clear from his reaction when I told him about Centero..."

"Oh," Jenna drawled. "You two had a cosy little talk about Travis's treatment."

//Your petty pinpricks are meaningless, Jenna!//

"Cally." Blake sounded hurt. "If you needed to talk to someone, why didn't you come to me?"

Cally sighed inwardly. How difficult humans could be! "I needed Avon, Blake. I needed his mental strength - his independence is a powerful force that for some reason I am receptive to. It helps me to bear my loneliness, my isolation from my people..."

Cally became aware of them all except Blake staring at her in wary incomprehension. How she pitied them their closed minds! At least Avon, for all his conceit, was open to alien concepts.

"When I'm with Avon I can absorb his strength..." Cally realised it was the wrong thing to say even before Jenna sneered:

"Do you expect us to believe he'll let your alien mind sponge on him?"

"*He* does not fear me." Cally saw that hit home.

"So," Blake said before Jenna could retaliate, "something Avon said gave you the impression that he has withstood interrogation before."

Jenna snorted. "He wouldn't tell *her*!"

"He didn't," Cally said. "It was the way he listened - he knew what I was talking about."

"We all know about Federation brutality," Jenna argued.

Cally shook her head. "He knew exactly how it felt, what I'd gone through, as only someone can know who's had the same experience. Avon is not a demonstrative man - I think he gave away more than he realised."

"Well, if he's had one sample of Federation brutality he surely wouldn't risk putting himself in that situation again," Jenna said with iron logic.

"Apparently it's what he did," Blake observed, adding bitterly: "'My risk', I said."

//It is no use to recriminate yourself,// Cally told him.

"Don't get morbid, Blake," Jenna said. "Avon can look after himself."

Gan nodded: "He'll be all right."

"Absolutely! Avon can talk himself out of trouble." Vila gave his empty glass a doleful stare. "He's probably having a friendly chat over a glass of wine with the commander right now."

* * * * * * *

Through the waves of pain Avon heard his tormentor's laugh. The sound was cut off by Karpal's icy voice: "What did you do to him?"

Avon opened his eyes. "They broke my leg." It came out as a series of groans.

The guard jumped to attention.

Tef quickly dropped the crusher onto the foot of the bench. "He tried to escape, Sir."

"Really?" With a cold stare Karpal told them to guard the door. Then he turned to Avon, self-satisfied smile back in place.

"You are going to be a big help with my enquiries."

Despite the agony, some part of Avon's brain was still able to function with cold reasoning, a faculty that had enabled him to resist interrogation in the past. "I take it you are familiar with the Interrogation Rules?" His voice was steadier now. "I'm not some unimportant rebel who can be tortured to death and then dumped without anyone asking questions. Leaving scars on *me* will get you into trouble."

Karpal laughed nastily. "We're not on Earth here. You'll find out just how far we can bend the rules on Terril." Almost casually he laid a hand on Avon's broken leg. "Where's Blake?"

Tef intervened. "He's on Bellasol, Sir. I've alerted them. They should have caught him by now."

Karpal's glance could have made the strongest weed wither. "Kerr Avon can lie with conviction. He's managed to hoodwink even the Fraud Squad! If he tells you Blake is on Bellasol, then that is the one place where you can be certain he is not." Hand hovering over the leg, he repeated: "Where is Blake?"

Avon wished he knew whether they were back on Liberator yet. Suppose the ship had been delayed...

Karpal's hand came down. Avon screamed.

"Where is Blake?"

"Out of this solar system by now," Avon gasped. "You'll never catch him."

"Oh yes, we will. Because you are going to tell us where he is."

"I can't tell you what I don't know." His only option was to persist. "Blake is not in the habit of discussing his plans."

"That's true," Tef chimed in. "Blake never confers with the others, just tells them to..." His voice trailed off when he realised the source of that bit of information.

Despite his pain Avon couldn't help laughing. It sounded annoyingly hysterical. Karpal picked up the crusher. Carefully aiming it, he said: "You can do better than that. Or do you want me to break your other leg as well?"

Avon silently cursed Vila. "I told you I don't know!"

"Good." Karpal caressed the crusher. "I like tough prisoners - much more pleasure to break! Actually, you don't have to answer this question. News has come in about the destruction of the laboratory complex on Aubrius..."

Relief flooded through Avon. Now he no longer needed to keep silent...

"...Which means we can leave the chase for Blake to Space Command," Karpal continued. "Going by their past record they'll probably manage to lose him, but that's no longer our concern. We can concentrate on more important matters. You are going to give me the secret of your ship's teleport"

Dismay fell over Avon like a cold shower. With teleportation the Federation's forces would be unstoppable. Not that he cared but...

With disheartening desperation Avon realised that he was not going to oblige. He had to try to give them false information... No, in this state he couldn't keep a clear enough head for that.

He treated Karpal to his most disdaining stare. "What makes you think I know anything about that?"

"You're something of a genius, aren't you? You've got quite a reputation on Earth."

"I bet." Through his pain Avon's heart warmed in satisfaction. "But the working of the teleport is still a riddle to me."

Karpal shook his head. "You wouldn't have rested until you found out how it worked."

"I haven't had the time-"

"Stop wasting mine!" Karpal waved the crusher above Avon's face. "I'll get it out of you, Avon. I'm going to break you!"

Avon looked into his cruel eyes. "And you'll love every minute of it!" He had to win time...

Karpal aimed the crusher. "I'm waiting."

Avon sighed. "All right, I'm prepared to do a deal."

Karpal snorted. "You've got nothing to barter with."

"Oh yes, I have. My mind is too valuable, you can't risk torturing me into insanity." Avon wasn't sure at all whether Karpal was receptive to straight logic, but saw to his relief that he seemed to weigh the argument.

After endless agonising seconds, Karpal shrugged, lowering the crusher. "All right, I'm listening."

With all his willpower Avon held his gaze. "I'm not dealing with you, only with the Supreme Commander himself."

An expression he could not read slid over Karpal's face. Then the Captain's eyes hardened. "We leave Space Command out of this."

"You can't." Avon dropped his bombshell with glee. "Tef has already informed them of my capture."

"*What*?" Karpal took a threatening step towards the Section Leader. "Is this true?"

For a moment Tef seemed to flinch, then he said brazenly: "Standard procedure, Sir. Actually, the Supreme Commander's already on the way here - was attending a conference on Lunel, as it happened."

The nearest planet to Terril, Avon thought with sinking heart. Just his luck!

"Arrival time will be..." Tef consulted his watch "...just under three hours."

"I see." With a look of regret Karpal laid down the crusher. "Still, we can use the waiting time to our advantage. Get the doctor," he ordered Tef. "Tell him to bring a truth drug."

To Avon he added smugly: "I'll have my answers before the Supreme Commander arrives."

* * * * * * *

Preparing the syringe, Doctor Mavrin felt the familiar combination of disgust and frustration. He'd become a doctor to alleviate pain, not to inflict it! Fear prevented him from showing his feelings, though, something for which he often hated himself.

His heart pained at the sight of Karpal's latest victim. Despite the horrible injuries left by Karpal's treatment, the man was conscious, his dark eyes following the doctor's movements with an air of... detachment almost.

A real catch, Tef had said. One of Blake's bunch. Mavrin had heard of Blake, rumours of his exploits against the Federation were whispered all over the galaxy.

"You'll hardly feel this," he said.

The man gave a short, bitter laugh. "With a broken leg, crushed wrist and cracked ribs do you think I worry about a tiny stab?"

Lowering his eyes in shame, Mavrin administered the drug. He had no choice, he told himself firmly. If he refused Karpal his services, retribution would fall not only on him but also on his family.

"Thank you, doctor." Karpal sounded vaguely threatening, as if sensing his feelings.

"It will take a few minutes for the drug to take effect," Mavrin said.

"I know." Karpal leaned eagerly over his victim. "You'll sing like a Lindorian thrushlin."

The man did not react. Mavrin marvelled at his calmness. He saw the clenched jaws relax as the drug began to take effect, then the man closed his eyes as if in concentration.

Karpal opened his mouth. Before he could utter his question, the rebel took a deep breath and began to recite:

"O glorious Federation, shining light through the darkness of space. Benevolent harbinger of civilisation to the galaxy's every race..."

Mavrin grimaced: The Glory of the Federation, the official panegyric that all children had to learn by heart. Sixty verses, eight lines each, of tasteless trash, spewed out by a rhymist whose ambition equalled his lack of talent. (He got the governorship of a border planet out of it, as Mavrin vaguely recalled.)

"Stop it," Karpal shouted. "Tell me about the teleport."

His victim gave no sign that he'd heard.

"Avon!" Karpal grabbed him by the collar, jerking him upright. "Avon, stop this! I want to hear about the teleport!"

Hanging in his grip like a ragdoll, Avon unflinchingly went on reciting.

"The teleport!" Karpal yelled.

Understanding dawned on Mavrin - and admiration. "He's not responding."

Karpal let go of the collar. Avon's body dropped back. It did not even disturb the flow of his words.

"We'll see about that," Karpal hissed, picking up the crusher.

"He won't feel anything," Mavrin warned. "The drug dulls the senses."

Karpal turned glaring eyes at Mavrin. "What did you give him?"

"The standard prescription, Captain."

"You're lying!"

Fighting a rising fear, the doctor said as calmly as he could: "This is the standard drug, metibulan-texatagrin."

"Then why doesn't he answer?"

Mavrin shook his head. "I've never seen this before, but I can speculate."

"You'll have to do better than speculation, or I'll assume you're in league with him!"

"No!" Fear made the words rush from Mavrin's mouth: "I think it must have to do with the nature of the drug. Metibulan-texatagrin makes a person relax to the point of letting down all defences. It causes a feeling of profound wellbeing combined with an irresistible urge to please. Once that is achieved, the patient will answer any question asked."

"*He*," Karpal interrupted him, "is not answering questions!"

Mavrin nodded. "He is feeding his need to please by reciting that poem. Somehow he's managed to concentrate so hard on this that it's blocking out everything else. He must be pulling on some experience from his youth where that declamation made someone very happy."

"I see." Karpal gave an irritated shrug. "Right, we'll have to wait until he's finished the poem." He began to pace the room with impatient steps.

Mavrin remained standing at the side of the bench. Fascinated he looked down at the lean face, pale from pain and exhaustion, drops of sweat glistering in the dark hair falling over the forehead. He'd never before seen someone resist the treatment. No wonder these rebels were feared.

Avon spouted line after line, verse after verse, without a single error. It vividly reminded Mavrin of his own struggle to get the cursed poem memorised.

Verse fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...

"At last." Karpal stopped his pacing and approached the bench while Avon finished off the last verse. "Now listen, Avon..."

"Oh glorious Federation, shining light through the darkness of space..."

"He's starting again," Mavrin said, secretly rejoicing in the sight of Karpal's face turning purple with rage.

"Give him something else!" the Captain shouted. "You must have something else!"

"I can't give him anything until this has worn off. The combination would kill him."

Karpal's curses drowned out Avon's voice. At last he calmed down enough to ask: "How long before it wears off?"

"Difficult to say precisely - it depends on the patient's condition and metabolism. But two hours at least."

Karpal headed for the door. "I'll come back in two hours. Warn me if he comes round sooner."

* * * * * * *

Slowly Avon became aware of the pain again. He kept up the reciting - not too difficult as the ode was firmly embedded in his brain. Knowing the bloody thing by heart was mandatory at every exam.

Keeping his eyes closed, he caught a rustling sound near him, then the doctor's voice: "You there! Bring me a glass of Spring Sparkles. A large one. And make sure they prepare it fresh!"

The sound of a door falling shut. Then the doctor said softly: "You can stop now. He'll be away for ten minutes at least."

Avon cautiously glanced through his eyelashes. The doctor stood bending over him, holding a disposable cup. It could be a trick. Avon kept reciting.

"Don't worry, the microphone and camera are switched off," the doctor said. "Karpal went out when he saw he wasn't going to get you to reply and so did Tef, leaving only the one guard. Karpal won't be back for another fifteen minutes, I told him you wouldn't come out of it before that time."

Opening his eyes, Avon fell silent.

The doctor took a tablet from his pocket and held it out to him.

Avon's suspicion returned. "What is it?"

"A painkiller. It won't be totally effective but I can't give you something that will make you drowsy." He threw an anxious glance at the door. "They would know."

The man was either sincere or a very good actor. Avon decided to risk it. He held out his uninjured hand for the tablet and quickly swallowed it.

The doctor took a straw from his pocket and inserted it in the cup. He held the cup while Avon drank. The water glided soothingly down his dry throat. "Thank you."

The doctor moved to dispose the empty cup and straw into the incinerator. "They say you are one of Blake's people."

Avon felt the familiar resentment. "They are wrong! I am my own man. My association with Blake is both accidental and temporary."

As if he had not heard, the doctor continued: "I admire you."

"Then you are a fool!"

"It makes a difference," the doctor went on while returning to the bench, "knowing that somewhere out there are people trying to end this tyranny."

"Blake would be pleased to hear it." Avon knew his sarcasm was lost.

The doctor sighed wistfully. "I wish I had the guts."

"You have a family," Avon guessed.

"Yes."

"Then you can't afford heroics." Seeing him nod dismally, Avon added: "Besides, if you refused, they would get someone else to do the job, someone without pity." The doctor's troubled conscience left him cold, but the last thing he needed was the fool deciding on some heroic deed that would get them both killed.

The guard burst into the room. "One Spring Sparkler, doctor." Handing over the drink, he observed: "So he's come out of it."

"Yes." The doctor gave Avon an apologetic glance. "You can go and report the fact to Captain Karpal."

When the guard had gone, he said: "I'm sorry."

"You have no choice." It struck Avon he should make use of the remaining seconds alone with this man. "What's the time?"

The doctor looked at his watch. "Ten forty."

Local time. That meant if Liberator kept to the schedule it would arrive in about three hours. Only three hours more... He didn't even want to contemplate the possibility that Liberator would fail to come.

Karpal entered and strode menacingly over to the bench. "Your dossier seems to be incomplete."

Avon managed a grin. "Probably they don't want to publicise the fact that the hallowed truth drug can be withstood."

Eyeing him coldly, Karpal said: "The Supreme Commander will dock in half an hour."

Avon returned his stare. "That means hands off for you, doesn't it? If he wants to torture me himself, he'll not be pleased if you spoil the ground for him."

Again that enigmatic brief smile. "It will be a pleasure to see the Commander deal with you." Karpal casually picked up the crusher. He aimed it at the ankle of Avon's undamaged leg and pressed the button in a single motion.

Pain impulses exploded in Avon's brain.

* * * * * * *

//Avon!// Cally sat up in her bed, instinctively recognising the source of her pain. //What are they doing to you?//

The pain abated, leaving her gasping and distraught. It took her a full minute to regain her calm, then she rose and dressed rapidly. Determinedly she went to Blake's cabin.

He opened his door at her first knock, a sign that he'd been awake. "Cally, you look- What's the matter?"

"It's Avon. I think they're hurting him. We have to go faster, Blake."

"Calm, Cally." He put his arm around her, his hazel eyes full of concern. Leading her into the cabin, he asked: "How do you know?"

"I felt his pain. Just now."

"But you said you can't-"

"Can I join?" came Jenna's icy voice from the doorway. "Or will three make a crowd?"

//Don't be a fool,// Cally told her.

"Come in, Jenna," Blake said neutrally.

"We must go faster!" Cally urged.

"We can't," Jenna said. "For one thing we need to reserve enough energy for a quick retreat from Terril. And you know the system is riddled with meteoroids. We're going at the fastest safe speed for Zen to avoid them."

Blake rubbed his thumb against his lips, looking thoroughly miserable. "Jenna is right. We can't go any faster without risking the ship or draining the energy banks."

"But Avon's being tortured - badly," Cally exclaimed.

Jenna gave her a stare of undisguised contempt. "What makes you think that?"

Cally decided to ignore the hostility. "I felt his pain."

She could see the suspicion flare up in Jenna. "You said you can't receive thoughts, only send them."

"And even that only over short distances," Blake added.

Cally nodded, forcing herself to view the phenomenon with detachment. "This has never happened before."

"You must be wrong," Blake said almost pleadingly.

Cally shook her head. "No, I did feel his pain. The force of his distress must be boosting my psychic abilities."

"You want us to believe that Avon is a telepath?" Jenna asked, voice dripping scepticism.

"No," Cally said. "But this could confirm his theory about telepathy."

"So our genius has a theory about telepathy," Jenna observed. "Well, I'm quite sure he can come up with a theory to prove that there's life on Pluto, if he feels like it."

Cally chose to ignore that. "According to Avon, thoughts are a form of energy, like radio waves. A force that has not yet been scientifically detected, but which telepaths are able to use."

She held a hand to her head, not sure herself if her next words made sense or not. "Maybe intense pain produces a rise in energy emission. Maybe I'm tuned to Avon in a manner that enables me to pick up that energy."

"The whole idea is ridiculous," Jenna said. "Besides, Avon wouldn't let himself be tortured. He'd do the sensible thing and tell them what they want to hear before giving them the chance to hurt him! He'd offer them a deal; he's perfectly prepared to sell us out in order to save his own skin."

"I don't believe that," Cally said.

"He didn't give in to Saymon's creatures," Blake remarked.

"But they only hurt his hand a bit, didn't they?" Jenna argued.

"He seemed determined to keep silent even if they would implement their threat of slicing him in half." Blake gave them a mirthless grin. "Out of pure bloody-mindedness, probably."

"We *have* to go faster," Cally repeated.

"We can't!" Jenna said with finality.

Blake laid a consoling hand on Cally's shoulder. "Losing Liberator won't help Avon, Cally." Seeing the validity of his argument, she nodded reluctantly.

"How long before we come within teleport range of Terril?" Blake asked Jenna.

She consulted her watch. "Just under three hours."

"Cally," Blake said, "why don't you try to tell Avon that we're on the way? If you are able to pick up his distress, the same energy-force may enable your thoughts to reach him even over this distance."

Half an hour ago she would have dismissed the suggestion as impossible. But now... "I can try..."

"Better go back to your cabin," Blake suggested. "You too, Jenna. I'll call you in two hours. Now I'll go and take over Vila's watch."

* * * * * * *

//Avon. What are they doing to you?//

The voice cut through his pain. Avon blinked. Cally - over such a distance! Impossible, he must be dreaming. No, it had been real. The pain must have acted as a booster - a two-way booster, if she'd been able to sense something amiss with him.

It was the only reasonable explanation.

Could this mean Liberator was closer than expected? No, seven hours was the minimum time to traverse the distance at a safe speed. He tried to concentrate, but the voice did not come back. Maybe only the moment of extreme pain brought on enough energy...

Meanwhile, he had at least another three hours to go through. Opening his eyes, Avon was confronted by Karpal's merciless gaze.

"Don't you think you are inviting the wrath of the Supreme Commander?" Avon's voice croaked.

"You were trying to escape." But the bravado lacked conviction. Karpal did begin to look uneasy. He turned abruptly. "I'll go to prepare for the Supreme Commander's visit."

The doctor stepped in his way. "This man needs treatment."

"No." Karpal didn't slow down and the doctor had to jump out of his way. "That's for the Supreme Commander to decide. Just make sure he stays alive." Karpal stopped in the doorway to address the guard: "Keep an eye on the doctor. We don't want him to pamper our guest."

Karpal sailed out, taking the crusher with him. Probably to make it disappear in case of an inquiry, Avon thought wryly.

He looked at the doctor, who avoided his gaze. No help there. Well, in the circumstances he couldn't really blame the man.

How the hell had he got himself into this mess?

Avon thought of his first experience of Federation brutality. He'd saved Tynus's bacon by keeping silent when they'd tried to beat the name of an associate out of him. And he'd thought that bad! How naive he'd been to think he would again get off with just a sore back.

Avon grimaced. His broken wrist was badly swollen and he didn't want to know how his legs looked. But once back aboard the ship he would be fine. Liberator's medical unit was the finest he'd ever seen, its equipment far in advance of everything the Federation could come up with. With the instructions from the medical computer, setting his broken bones would not be beyond Gan's medical skills.

IF they got him out. Space Command would expect a rescue operation. But the many asteroids in the system would make it difficult to detect Liberator from a distance. And finding his way to the prison complex was not beyond Blake's capabilities. It all depended on speed. A quick run in and out. It had worked to free Cally, it could work now. Liberator's retreat would be hampered by the asteroids, but so would their pursuers. Zen could calculate course changes faster than the Federation computers. And despite its size, Liberator could out-manoeuvre the pursuit ships.

Of course, the sensible thing for Blake to do was not to attempt a rescue operation at all. Avon had never thought that one day he'd be grateful for the fact that one could rely on Blake to never do the sensible thing.

Avon closed his eyes and tried to relax. The painkiller seemed to begin to work at last, dulling the pain to a bearable ache. Well, bearable compared to what had gone before. Tiredness overwhelmed him. Gratefully he let himself sink into a timeless nothingness...

* * * * * * *

In her cabin Cally set herself to her task. Concentrating with all her might, she sent her thoughts into space: //Avon, we're coming. Hold on. Three hours, Avon. Just three hours more. We'll get you out...//

Tiring, she stopped. It was no use exhausting herself. She would try it every fifteen minutes.

She had no way of knowing whether he'd received the message, or not. After that one burst of pain she had not felt any communication from him and she felt none now. That must mean that Avon's pain had abated.

The other possibility, that she got no reaction because he was dead, she banned resolutely from her mind.

* * * * * * *

Avon was jerked back to reality by Karpal's voice. Opening his eyes, he saw Karpal lead a beautiful woman into the room. They were followed by various military figures.

"Supreme Commander." Addressing the woman, Karpal almost purred. "Here we have the infamous Kerr Avon."

So the Supreme Commander was a woman - that explained Karpal's amusement.

Elegantly balanced on very high heels, she approached him with a viper's smile. "So you are Kerr Avon."

He could only stare at her, unable to comment. The only concession to her military status was her black hair, which was cropped very short. Her large brown eyes were accentuated by heavy make-up. She was wearing the most outrageous dress he'd ever seen: white, cut low, and covered with feathers, beads and strips of shiny metal. On every other woman it would have looked grotesque; she looked stunning.

"Lost your tongue, Avon?" she asked sweetly. "That is not something you are noted for."

He found his voice back. "It is not every day that one comes across an apparition like you."

She studied his face. "The pictures in your dossier do not do you credit."

"Really?" Avon managed a cynical laugh. "I can hardly be looking at my best now."

"You're looking positively dreadful." She raised an enquiring eyebrow at Karpal.

The Captain stood to attention. "No irreversible damage has been done, Ma'am."

She seemed to dismiss him and his remark with the same shrug. Avon found himself again under scrutiny. "So, you are Blake's most unwilling recruit."

"I see you are informed."

"Yes, your Auron was very forthcoming. I gather it took some persuasion to bring her to talk but the result was extremely satisfying."

"Was it?" Avon challenged. "Did she really tell you something new? Or was it merely confirmation of everything your psycho-strategists had already figured out?"

The look of annoyance that passed over her face told him the answer. "I've sent for a high security ship and escort to bring you to Space Command Headquarters."

"With respect, Supreme Commander," Karpal interjected. "He should be transported to Earth. This man is the property of Central Security."

Her smile was icy. "Right now he is *my* property."

Karpal glared at her. "Security will lodge a protest with the president."

"Of course, but make sure it's done through the appropriate channels."

The perfect bureaucracy, Avon thought, perversely enjoying the wrangle over him.

The Supreme Commander turned her back on Karpal. "We may as well spend the waiting usefully. I'm sure our prisoner will be able to tell us all about that impressive spaceship." She motioned to one of her escorts, who produced a voice recorder. "You can begin with the teleport, Avon. Just a rough outline of the principle, we'll go over the details later."

Avon's mouth went dry; he couldn't stand any more pain. Somehow he managed to keep the fear from his face and voice. "We'll first go over the details of my fee."

"What?" For a moment he had her shaken. Outrage flared in her eyes. "No!"

Avon held her gaze. "A full pardon plus fifty million Credits. For the secret of teleportation, that's cheap."

She shook her head, smiling sweetly. "Your only reward will be your life."

"Until I'm handed over to Security's torturers?" Fear made Avon's heart race but he kept his voice level. "Karpal will be able to tell you that all his attempts to get information out of me by force have failed."

"With respect, Supreme Commander," Karpal drawled with a sadistic smile on his hard face. "It will be my pleasure to demonstrate my treatment."

She gave him a condescending stare. "Your methods seem to have resulted in little success, Captain."

"I'll break him!"

"Or kill him first?" She shook her head. "No, Captain. Violence is not the answer here." She turned to one of her entourage, a thickset bullnecked man with a cruel thin mouth. "Doctor, administer the drug."

Karpal blocked his way. "I've already-"

"Captain!" the Supreme Commander interrupted him with steel in her voice. "When I want your opinion I'll ask for it. Do not presume upon my patience."

Karpal saluted stiffly. "Ma'am."

Stifling an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing, Avon tried to look suitably dismayed at the prospect of being subjected to the truth drug.

The doctor had come prepared. While he injected the fluid Avon concentrated on the Federation's best known and most hated poem. The words began to flow from his mouth just before he lost all awareness.

* * * * * * *

Vila lay on his bunk, feeling thoroughly miserable. He wished Blake had not told him about Cally feeling Avon's pain. It wasn't his fault! He'd warned Avon that he'd be a liability. It was all Avon's fault, really. He should have thought of checking Vila's bracelet after that fall!

He shuddered at the idea of Avon being tortured. He could not stand pain, not even the thought of it. If Avon had not given him his bracelet, it would be Vila down there right now. He still could not believe that Avon had done it. Not could Avon himself, probably. He'd be cursing himself for his decision by now. And cursing Vila.

What if they would come too late to save him? Then Vila could keep all the money himself. That thought ought to cheer him up but it didn't.

Vila tried to imagine life on Liberator without Avon. Much more agreeable, probably. Let's face it, Avon wasn't exactly the soul of a party. He was a right bastard. Useful, though. Gan was useful too, to have around when you were threatened by larger men. But Gan would never go behind Blake's back for a bit of safe-lifting. Too many morals, had Gan. Cally too, miserable alien! Jenna didn't have any more morals that Avon, but she seemed smitten by Blake. Funny, how beautiful women always fell for the wrong guys.

It wasn't fair, Vila reflected. He was presentable, charming, witty, but all they ever said to him was 'Shut up'!

His thoughts turned back to Avon and their venture on Terril. Emptying that safe had been fun. The first real fun he'd had since his final arrest and deportation. But now it had all turned sour. Blake would want to draft him into the rescue party - locks to be opened.

Sighing, Vila got up. He needed something to steady his nerves.

* * * * * * *

Gradually the drug began to lose its hold and Avon became aware of Cally's voice in his head: //Avon, we're coming. We'll be within teleport range in twenty minutes.//

His relief was so great he almost stopped reciting. Just in time, he continued with the next verse. His throat hurt and his voice was hoarse, but never mind, the longer he could keep up the pretence of being under the influence of the drug, the less time remained for them to think of other ways to make him talk.

Through the words he could hear a door being opened and closed, then a clipped voice announcing: "Your instructions have been implemented, Supreme Commander. All craft have orders to stay out of the way and not to attack the ship under any circumstances..."

The poem was embedded so strongly in Avon's mind that he could recite and listen at the same time.

"Are all troops in position?"

"Yes, Supreme Commander."

"You told them to let Blake and his crew enter the building unchallenged?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Let them walk into our trap. We'll arrest them as soon as they're inside. Then we'll use their teleport bracelets to board the ship."

Avon nearly stopped. He forced himself to continue reciting. Verse thirty-five...

Blake would fall for it - he'd praise his luck for the clear way and walk straight into the trap. He had to be warned.

Verse thirty-six.

How?

Snatch away a staff member's communicator.

Thirty-seven.

Impossible, even with the painkiller the slightest movement brought pain... Pain. Cally had been able to feel his pain.

Thirty-eight.

Using the energy unleashed by pain, he might be able to get a message through to her.

Thirty-nine.

Nonsense. He wasn't a telepath.

But she had felt his pain.

Verse forty.

If Cally was able to pick up his pain she might be able to catch a message too...

"How long is this going to last?" the Supreme Commander asked.

Forty-one.

"He must be coming out of it soon now." The doctor sounded strained, as if the Commander had been venting her frustration on him while Avon was unresponsive.

Forty-two...

//Avon, fifteen minutes.//

His voice faltered. Immediately he felt a rush of wind, then a vicious slap in his face.

Avon's eyes snapped open. The Supreme Commander was leaning over him, eyes blazing. At her side, her doctor was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Karpal, standing at the other side of the bench, smirked. "With respect, Supreme Commander, this method seems to have resulted in little success."

"Think you can do better, bully boy?" Avon taunted.

He had to get Karpal to hurt him once more.

No, he couldn't stand any more pain!

He had to. It was the only way to get through to Cally - if he could.

"Broke all the rules to get me to talk, didn't you? But you failed!" Seeing the disbelief on Karpal's face turn to fury, Avon braced himself. "You're a dismal failure, a miserable coward-"

Karpal's hand came down on Avon's broken leg.

His world dissolved in pain. Hanging on to consciousness with all his might, he screamed silently: Cally, it's a trap! They're waiting! Teleport inside!

//Avon. You're alive!// Cally's relief came through clearly. //We're coming. Thirteen minutes to teleport range. We'll get you out.//

No, Cally!

Defeat overwhelmed him. She had not acknowledged his message. That meant she had not got his message. She'd felt his pain but not heard his voice.

* * * * * * *

Blake was pulling a gun from its storage wall on the flight deck when he heard Cally cry out. Turning, he saw her leaning over the back of a couch, obviously in pain.

Gan was already running towards her, quick and light-footed despite his bulk.

Blake followed, gun in hand. "What's the matter, Cally?"

"It's Avon." Her eyes were shining with relief. "He's alive!"

"You felt him again?" Jenna asked from the pilot's position.

"Yes."

"I told you he'd be all right," Vila said, ambling towards them.

"No, he isn't. He's in terrible pain. I think he's being tortured." Cally turned to Blake: "We haven't got a minute to lose."

He handed her the gun. "If it's that bad, we'd better teleport directly into the cell-complex."

Jenna asked: "Wouldn't they have a special torture chamber?"

"Yes," Cally said. "The interrogation room. That's where he'll be."

"Then we'll go straight in there," Blake decided. "If we can calculate the co-ordinates."

"I can do that." Cally fastened her gun-belt.

Blake walked back to the storage wall and took another gun. "Vila."

"But you won't need me now." Vila produced an ingratiating smile. "Why not let *me* operate the teleport, instead of Gan?"

Blake held the gun out to him. "Avon may not be in the interrogation room."

Connecting her gun to its power pack, Cally said: "*You* brought him into this, Vila!"

No, Blake thought - I brought him into this. *My* risk!

The memory of the torture Vargas had put him through was still raw in his mind. Heaven knew what Avon had to put up with.

"Twelve minutes," Jenna said.

"Take the gun, Vila," Blake ordered. "And a spare bracelet. Your task will be to locate Avon and get the bracelet on him."

"While we shoot everyone else in sight," Cally added. "We can't afford to be magnanimous, Blake!" She moved to the corridor. "I'll go to work on the co-ordinates."

Blake saw her leave with determined steps. Woe the louts who'd dared to touch her friend, he thought with sudden amusement. Now this was interesting! He wondered how far Avon was aware of her feelings. Blake smiled; when Cally had set her mind on something, even Avon might find it hard to resist.

* * * * * * *

Through his pain Avon heard the Supreme Commander shout: "Fool! Can't you see he's trying to make you kill him?" To Avon she added viciously: "Don't think you'll get the easy way out!"

Avon was beyond caring. All was lost. Liberator would be caught. Jenna and Vila would do the sensible thing and co-operate in their trial, but Blake and Cally would be made to pay for their defiance. Not that he cared. He'd never cared. And he'd always known that it would end like this.

No chance. Blake had never had a chance.

A communicator bleeped. Avon heard someone acknowledge, then report: "The ship has been sighted, Supreme Commander. It's heading this way."

"Good. Make sure my orders are carried out. Apprehend them swiftly once they're in the corridor. They must not get the chance to warn their ship."

//Avon, hold on. Eight minutes.//

NO, Cally! he wanted to shout.

//I've located the interrogation room. We're going to teleport straight in. If you're not there we'll find you...//

His relief was so deep he didn't catch the rest.

Avon became aware of Karpal eyeing him thoughtfully. "Something's wrong, Ma'am. He's taking the prospect of his rescuers walking into a trap much too calmly."

Damn! In his relief he'd forgotten to show the required dismay.

"What do you want me to do?" he snarled. "Burst into sobbing and tear out my hair?" But the sudden suspicion on the Supreme Commander's face told him it was no use.

"I think you are right, Captain. He is up to something." Her voice held a trace of apprehension. "We can't afford any mistakes now."

"I'll get it out of him!" Karpal took a laser probe from his pocket. "Do I have your permission for some irreversible damage, Ma'am?"

Avon found her regarding him with a gaze of vague regret. "It seems a pity to mar those features..."

//Six minutes, Avon.//

The Supreme Commander's painted lips parted in a cruel smile. "Yes, Captain, you have my permission."

Karpal held his probe in front of Avon's face, visibly savouring the moment. "Talk or I burn out your eyes!"

Avon's heart turned cold. Even Liberator's medical facilities wouldn't be able to cope with that.

"Tell us what Blake's up to," the Commander added.

//Five minutes.//

Too long! Avon swallowed, fighting down a sudden nausea. "How would I know? Blake's actions are always unpredictable."

"You can do better!" Karpal brought the probe to down to Avon's left eye with deliberate slowness, smiling in anticipation.

Avon stared at his tormentor. "You are enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Yes." The hand did not stop its advance.

//Four minutes.//

With the strength of desperation Avon lashed out with his undamaged arm. Hit in the crotch, Karpal bent double, dropping the probe. Delving into unknown reserves, Avon grabbed the Supreme Commander and pulled her over him. The pain of movement almost made him faint but he pinned her to him with his last strength. With her body shielding his, her guards could not aim at anything vital without hitting her too.

* * * * * * *

Outraged by the ignominy of finding herself lying over her prisoner's chest, the Supreme Commander struggled against Avon's hold. The smell of sweat and urine almost made her gag. She saw her companions standing staring at her, as if the fools were waiting for orders. Karpal was bent double, alternating between moaning and cursing.

"Guards!" she called.

They raised their guns.

"Yes, make them shoot," Avon hissed in her ear. She felt his breath against her cheek. "They'll hit you first!"

"Don't shoot, you idiots!" she yelled.

They lowered their guns.

A white light sprang up in front of them. The guards hastily stepped back. The light took on the shape of three humans. Two of them immediately opened fire, mowing down everyone present with fierce efficiency. In horrified shock the Supreme Commander saw her companions fall down in showers of blood.

Self-preservation took over. She tore herself loose, glided down and hid under the bench.

"No, Vila," she heard Avon cry out. "The other wrist!"

"Ready, Blake," a tense voice shouted.

The shooting stopped. In the sudden silence the authoritative voice seemed to fill the room: "Bring us up, Gan."

Again the white light. The Supreme Commander waited until it had passed, then risked a cautious glance round the bench. Her companions lay where they'd fallen, unmistakably dead. Karpal, the only other survivor, sat groaning in a corner.

The door stayed close. No one had had time to raise the alarm and the room was sound-proof.

Shaking out her dress, the Supreme Commander moved from her hiding place. She wasn't surprised to see the torture bench empty.

Karpal cast her a vicious look. "He's gone! You let him go! I had Kerr Avon at my mercy and you let him escape!"

Walking forward, she bent to pick up a gun dropped by a guard.

"You stupid *cow*," Karpal railed. "I'll see you court-martialled!"

"I don't think so, Captain. You'll be the perfect scapegoat." She aimed the gun. "After all, the dead can't talk."

With relish she saw the look of resentment on his face turn to fear.

"*No*!" he screamed.

Smiling, she pressed the trigger.

* * * * * * *

Blake sat in the sickbay watching the sleeping Avon. With the aid of Liberator's medical equipment Cally and Gan had made a good job of repairing his bones. Now all he needed was rest.

The white of the bandages covering his arm and legs was accentuated by the gaudy coloured dressing gown Cally had fetched to replace the sweat and urine stained prison coverall. With the shade of stubble on his chin, hair plastered to his head, face still pale from pain and exhaustion, Avon looked uncommonly vulnerable.

Now he thought about it, Blake realised he'd never seen Avon dishevelled before. Even on the London, he'd managed to keep himself almost excessively groomed.

Blake had been shocked by the level of violence the Federation torturers had applied. It was hard to believe that Avon had defied them, but Blake was convinced that he had. The sedative having brought him quickly to sleep, Avon had not yet had the chance to talk about his ordeal. Blake doubted whether they would ever hear the whole story.

He had sent Gan and Cally away, choosing to stay with Avon himself. He'd failed Cally, when she'd been in need of a listening ear, and he wasn't going to make that mistake again! He would be there to give Avon support, even if the man didn't want it.

The timer began to buzz softly. Avon's eyes snapped open before Blake could reach to turn off the sound. For a moment he seemed disorientated, then his face relaxed.

"You're safe," Blake said. "In Liberator's medical unit."

"Yes, I can see that." Avon's voice sounded hoarse, Blake noticed. He must have been screaming a lot.

Raising his bandaged arm, Avon gingerly moved his hand, flexed his fingers, made a movement as if holding a delicate tool, flexed his fingers again. When all seemed to work as it should, he visibly relaxed.

Blake understood. Avon's hands were important to him - working on computers he had to perform as delicate tasks with them as any surgeon.

"It's all right," he said. "The bones are set and healed. But you're to take it easy for a while."

"That stands to reason."

"Do you feel any pain?"

"No."

Blake rose and went to fetch a glass which he filled from the jug of vitamin solution Cally had prepared. "The medical computer advises a dose of this every two hours. You need to drink regularly to make up for the dehydration."

Avon leaned on his elbow to drink. He downed the glass without comment, then handed it back.

"Would you like anything else?" Blake asked.

"No." Avon draped the dressing gown more closely over his legs. He should look ridiculous in that garment, which seemed to hold every colour of the rainbow plus some Blake couldn't even put a name to, but didn't. Trust Avon, Blake mused, to wear even the most outrageous clothes with dignity.

Avon lay back. "Now go and gloat somewhere else, Blake!"

"What?" For a moment he wondered whether he'd heard correctly. "If you think I rejoice in-"

"I should have known you'd want to rub it in!" Avon interrupted him bitterly.

Suddenly it clicked. "You're talking about giving Vila your bracelet..."

"A bout of pure insanity!" Avon spat.

Blake stared at him, unsure how to take this. "You go through hell and all you worry about is your reputation?"

"I told you, it was a bout of insanity!"

Cold, selfish Kerr Avon, who despises heroics, caught out in a noble deed. Yes, that would hurt, Blake thought, vaguely amused. But if it meant so much to Avon, he'd better set his mind at rest. "As far as I can see, you had no choice. Vila would have told his captors where to find us before Liberator would have been able to get us out. You thought you could hold out long enough-"

"I didn't do it for you!"

"Of course not. I accepted the risk. But Cally..."

"She chose to follow you. Why should I care?"

Blake sighed inwardly - why couldn't the man acknowledge being human just for once! "No, you did it for yourself. You knew the others would insist on freeing us. You considered being caught then and there less risky than later having to take part in a perilous rescue operation."

For a moment he saw relief in Avon's eyes, as if he'd not yet thought of that argument. Well, under the circumstances it was a miracle he'd been able to think at all.

"Exactly, Blake!" Avon's tone was cold.

"But you got more than you bargained for."

"I was stupid enough to expect them to keep to the Interrogation Rules."

Blake ran a hand over his chin. "Once we'd blown up the Centre they knew where we'd been. So why did they persist in their torture?"

"They wanted me to tell them how the teleport works."

Blake felt suddenly sick. A teleport system would make the Federation invincible. "And you refused."

Avon's eyes flared. "Don't let that give you any ideas! I'm perfectly willing to sell them the information - for the right price."

And at the right time, Blake thought. Not as long as they can use it against you! "They made you pay." He laid his hand on his shoulder. "Avon-"

"Don't say it! There's nothing heroic about being tortured. It's just bloody painful!"

Blake thought of his brainwashing, Vargas's treatment... "I know."

"Then spare me your commiseration! It's wasted."

Determined to keep his patience, Blake tried again: "Anyone who's gone through such an ordeal is entitled to-"

"It's over," Avon snapped. "I don't dwell on the past. An attitude you should adopt."

Blake clenched his fists. "That was below the belt."

"I'm the one who is lying down."

"I'm almost beginning to feel sorry for your interrogators!" It was out before Blake could stop himself. To his amazement he saw Avon smile, as if he was taking it as a compliment.

"I'm perfectly all right, Blake," Avon said. "Now leave me."

"No, someone should stay with you."

Avon gave him a dark look. "All I want to do is sleep. I don't need anyone to hold my hand."

Blake returned his stare. "I'm not going to leave you unattended."

Avon's sigh expressed his irritation. "Then send Vila along. It's his fault I'm in this state; let him do something to make up for it. At least I won't get any sentimentality from him!"

"But he'll fall asleep!"

"Yes. That will make him less of an intrusion." Avon turned onto his side as if the matter was settled. "Don't worry, I'll wake him up when I need something."

"All right." Blake rose from his seat. Whatever his motives, Avon's deed had spared him and Cally certain imprisonment and possible death. The least he could do in return was to respect his wishes. He should have remembered the man's preference for solitude.

From the doorway he looked back. Avon had his back to him but his body looked relaxed. Maybe he really was capable of putting this whole affair behind him without nightmares, Blake thought, stepping into the corridor.

* * * * * * *

With relief Avon heard the door slide shut. Blake seemed to have swallowed his motive, which hopefully would prevent him from pondering too much on other possible motivations. One always had to keep in mind that, despite his single-minded idealism, Blake wasn't a fool.

Savouring the brief moment of privacy, Avon considered his future. His instinct told him to run for the nearest bolt hole. But Liberator's systems were still a challenge; he'd not unravelled half of their secrets yet...

The door slid open.

Vila entered, looking a bit apprehensive. "Blake said you wanted me."

"Yes. You can make yourself useful by checking this place for listening devices. I wouldn't put it past Blake to have rigged up something while I was asleep."

"Right ho."

At least that was something you *could* leave to Vila, Avon reflected, idly watching him.

"All clear," Vila announced. "And the communicator's switched off."

"Good." Avon leaned forward to ask the question that had been uppermost on his mind all through his conversation with Blake: "Did you hide the money safely?"

Vila looked insulted. "Of course I did!"

"You're quite sure?" Avon insisted. "I don't want Blake to stumble on it by accident."

"He won't." Vila picked up a chair and brought it over to the bed.

Avon relaxed. "Well, that's *something* saved out of this whole bloody mess!" And with their minds on that empty safe, chances are that the Terril authorities won't think of checking their computer. Even if they did, it would need a genius to detect the reprogramming...

Adjusting the chair to its most comfortable position, Vila said: "I should have known you didn't give me that bracelet out of the goodness of your heart! It was because I had the money."

"Of course."

"Well, thanks anyway." Vila lowered himself into the chair with a purposeful air.

"Mind you don't start snoring before I am fast asleep," Avon warned him.

Vila scowled. "I don't snore."

"Not when you're awake," Avon agreed cordially. With cold amusement he saw Vila groping for a suitable retort.

"You seemed very cosy with that woman down there. Enjoying yourself, were you? Obviously we need not have hurried to your rescue." Vila lay back in his chair, stretching his legs. "Who was she, by the way?"

"The Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation."

Vila gave a whistle of astonishment. "Looked like a real smasher. What's her name?"

A good question, Avon thought. "I don't know. It was never mentioned."

"Never mind," Vila said, lazily closing his eyes. "You're not likely to meet her again, are you?"

* * * * * * *

"Did you set the co-ordinates?"

Cally looked up from the teleport console to see Avon standing in the doorway. Not for the first time she marvelled at how silently he could move. He was clad in the mock battle dress from their trip to Kairos. It was just the kind of attire to make a police patrol suspicious, especially with some carefully selected items in his pockets and the absence of any means of identification.

Cally's heart contracted in the pain of frustration. Damn the man, how could he be so calm at the prospect of ending up in Central Security's interrogation centre? "You really want to go through with this?"

"Yes." He walked over to check the co-ordinates. "It's the only way to catch him, Cally."

"What if he doesn't come?"

"He will. He's their top interrogator, he'll rise to the challenge of making an obstinate prisoner talk."

"What if they start breaking your bones before he arrives?"

"This is Earth. They have to stick to the rules."

"And if they don't?"

"Whatever they'll do, I'll be able to stand it."

Curse Vila! If he hadn't lost his bracelet, that time on Terril, Cally thought, Avon wouldn't have this certainty now.

"And what about me, Avon? Am I to share your pain again?"

"Shield yourself off! You know how to do it." Stepping away from the console, he punched the wall communicator: "Vila, I'm waiting!" Cutting off the inevitable protest, he told Cally: "The tracer signal is functioning. It may take some days to catch him, so one of you needs to be at standby all the time." Walking over to the bracelet holder, he added: "And make sure that Vila stays sober!"

"I heard that!" Vila entered the room with reluctant steps. "You're sure you need me, Avon? I mean, you know how unreliable I am."

Avon put on a bracelet, then held another out to Vila. "All you need to do is go straight back up with my bracelet. Even you can't mess up something as simple as that!"

Vila ignored the bracelet. "Why not take Dayna? She's raring for action."

Avon snapped the bracelet on Vila's wrist. "A very good reason for *not* taking her. The last things I need down there are heroics!" Pushing him into the teleport bay, Avon produced one of those smiles that betrayed the human behind the cold facade. "That's why I chose you, Vila." He turned to Cally: "Bring Vila back up after five seconds."

Cally sighed. She'd never before seen someone so utterly set on a task. "You are prepared to go through days of torture - for a ghost!"

"No, for *me*" He laid a hand on her arm. His face close to her, he said softly: "I need to lay this ghost to rest, Cally, before I can start afresh."

Abruptly he let go of her and went to stand beside Vila. Face unreadable, he instructed: "Put us down."

Dazed, she activated the teleport. Seeing their figures shimmer and disappear, she began to count the seconds, Avon's words lingering in her ears while she contemplated their meaning.

 


End file.
